The Cowboy Who Came Calling

by Linda Broday

  Another bullet slammed into the tree beside him, sending a chunk of bark flying. He glanced over his shoulder.

  Creede had the reins firmly in his teeth and a pair of pistols in each hand, riding directly for him. The black stare held an otherworldly glitter. The half-breed took dead aim.

  Fire and damnation! Luke ducked and jumped from the mare’s back behind a rock formation. He hunkered down, waiting for a break in the barrage. Then he rose ever so slightly. When the ugly face centered in his sights, he delivered a load of hot lead. Red oozed from Creede’s shoulder.

  The stage came to a stop.

  “Hey, fellows, we done been tricked! Ain’t no people in here. Just a bunch of straw. And firecrackers.”

  Luke couldn’t stop the chuckle. He didn’t know how the captain had found out about the holdup.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “McClain, you’re a dead man,” Creede yelled.

  Suddenly, a hail of gunfire burst from both sides of the road, catching the gang in a cross fire. The few who remained on their horses scrambled for protection.

  “Might as well give up and make things easier on all concerned,” Dan Roberts drawled. “It’ll chap my hide if I have to come get you.”

  “You hear that, boys? I don’t think you want on the cap’n’s bad side.” Luke scanned the brush.

  “Luke? That you?”

  What the…? The familiar voice shouldn’t be here.

  Maybe his imagination was playing tricks. “Who wants to know?”

  “It’s me, little brother.”

  “Great day in the morning!”

  “Heard you might have your hands full with this gang.”

  Relief unbent a few of the kinks in his gut. “Cap’n, you and Duel are welcome to join the fun.”

  “Ooh, you got us shaking in our boots,” Frenchie hurled from his hiding place.

  Creede joined the discussion. “I figure it’s three against six or more of us. Don’t think you’re big enough.”

  “Wrong thing to say,” Luke muttered.

  Foster’s boys were not only smelly, they were flat stupid. Dan and Duel could outfight a grizzly. Not that Luke was any slouch.

  He crept toward the clump of mesquites. A twig snapped, stealing the surprise. Creede whirled. The bullet caught Luke’s arm, jarring the Colt from his grasp.

  Searing pain ran up his neck. He took a flying leap into the half-breed’s chest.

  Grunts came from both when they hit the ground.

  Luke grabbed for the man’s throat and squeezed as Creede gouged his eyes. Sharp pain took his breath. He couldn’t see. He only knew he had to hang on for dear life. Rocks and thorns penetrated his shirt in the rolling struggle.

  All of sudden, Creede’s hand slipped. Luke spied his Colt through a faint haze.

  He lunged for it and put the muzzle to the half-breed’s forehead. Rage swept through him. For a brief heartbeat, he fought the urge to send the man to his fate.

  “Do it.” Hate glistened in Creede’s dark eyes. “Go ahead.”

  “No.” Luke shifted and hauled him up. “It’s too good for you.”

  Several hundred yards away, Dan had assembled the other members of the gang. They sat in the road in a circle. He guarded them while Duel tied their hands.

  “Got another one.” Luke shoved Creede forward. “Don’t know where you came from, brother, but I’m happy to see you. That goes for you too, Dan.”

  Roberts returned the grin. “Thought I taught you better than to try to whip a nest of outlaws single-handed. You trying to get your job back or something?”

  Blood soaked Luke’s sleeve. He clenched his jaw and took note of the shot-up group. None of the faces were ugly enough to be Frenchie’s. A branch snapped off to his right. Whipping off his bandana and looping it around the wound, he tied it with his teeth and gave chase.

  * * *

  One horse. One rider. Glory listened with bated breath. It didn’t sound like Soldier. The paint had an unusual canter. And Luke would be whistling some silly tune. A flurry whipped the air. She knew Patience made a beeline for the window.

  “It’s only Dr. Dalton.” Squirt’s dejection matched her own.

  True to his word, he came to check on Mama. Dedicated and professional described the esteemed doctor. She harbored no grudge for his opinion.

  That she’d never see again was a given.

  Baby Ethan sucked greedily on the bottle.

  “The girls and I will make ourselves scarce,” Jessie said.

  “I won’t hear of it.” Mama’s firm tone brooked no argument. “You’re our guests.”

  “Mama’s right.” Glory laid a hand on her arm. “Please.”

  Dr. Dalton rapped on the front door.

  “Won’t you come in?” Ruth greeted him.

  The sounds indicated she’d shown him into the parlor.

  “Has your mother been ill?” Jessie asked.

  “I’m afraid so. But she’s better now.”

  “Patience, will you dry dishes for me?” The pump squeaked as Hope filled a pan and put it on the stove.

  “I can’t. I promised Marley Rose and Lily I’d show them Miss Minnie’s kittens.” The chair scooted on the floor. “Take my hand, girls, and come with me,” she ordered imperiously.

  Wouldn’t you know? Few things changed. Glory rose. “I’ll do it. Lord knows I need to feel useful.”

  “How long…without sight, I mean?” Jessie’s question lingered quietly in the room.

  “My vision has gotten progressively worse over the last three months. Total blindness came about four days ago.”

  “I have to say I’m amazed at your courage.” Glory sensed that Jessie put Ethan on her shoulder and patted his back. “If it were me, I’d probably crawl in bed and pull the sheet over my head. How do you find the strength?”

  “My sisters should take a lot of credit, for in bed is exactly where I wanted to stay. And Luke…” Recollections of their lovemaking swirled in her head. “He had quite a few pearls of wisdom.”

  “Patience spoke of Luke asking you to wed him.”

  Glory grinned wryly. “More than once in fact. I couldn’t accept.”

  “Forgive me for being too forward—may I ask why not?”

  “It’s rather complicated.”

  “Don’t you love him?”

  Oh yes, more than life…in ways no one suspected.

  “My knees go weak with wanting. Love? It’s fair to say Luke occupies every nook and cranny in my heart. I’ve never known such a man.”

  Nor would she ever again. Her charmer was one of a kind.

  Baby Ethan gave a resounding burp.

  “There. That should make you all better,” Jessie crooned before she continued. “Then why deny yourself?”

  “He doesn’t feel the same.”

  She had no illusions. She was simply a problem Luke thought he could solve. Something broken in need of fixing. Nothing more. And he deserved something better than a blind wife. Two good reasons. Hotness stung her eyes. She couldn’t strap him with that. He had dreams to fulfill.

  “I’m sorry to butt in,” Hope interrupted. “I disagree. I’ve watched how Luke lights up when he looks at Glory. He can’t hide it. She’s wrong.”

  “One thing I’ve discovered…my brother-in-law has no half measures. When Luke truly cares, he does so with every ounce of his being. He latches on to people with the same fierce loyalty that he embraces ideals. I suppose that’s what makes him so tender and compassionate. Duel and Luke got that from their father, may he rest in peace.” Jessie’s voice caught.

  “Judging from the fine sons Walt McClain raised, he must’ve been a fine man.” The heated water sizzled as Hope poured it into the dish tub. Glory fumbled for the drying cloth.

  “My life is better for
having known such a special person. I viewed him as a father. Since he married my mother after she came to live with us, he filled those shoes in every way.”

  Glory threw down the cloth and moved for the door. “I can’t stand this infernal waiting another second!”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find them. I have to. Maybe I can help.”

  The swirl of baby scents enveloped Glory when Jessie took her arm.

  “You’d be more of a hindrance, dear. It could make things worse for Luke. You wouldn’t want that.”

  “A few weeks ago, I’d be out there looking for him.” And daring anyone to stop her.

  * * *

  This thumb-twiddling made an old woman of Glory as the day wore on. Every one of her frayed nerves had snapped. They should’ve heard something by now. Bad news was better than silence.

  Middle afternoon approached, best she could figure. She dared not consider what might’ve gone wrong.

  Patience had selected a book to read and wandered down to the creek. Her charges snoozed peacefully on a floor pallet.

  The click of knitting needles blended with the rhythm of the rocking chair in the parlor where she and the other three women had gathered. She envied Hope and Mama’s ability to busy their hands with mending and knitting.

  Sewing had never appealed much. Except when she’d sewn Luke’s trousers. Had he known of her inept abilities? she wondered. The fond memory of the way his clothes felt to the touch renewed the stabbing pain.

  Strange she’d not realized the depth of her love sooner. Tragedy had to open her eyes.

  Wasted days—weeks—and minutes.

  A foolish, stupid mistake. A whole passel of them.

  Moisture left her mouth, making swallowing difficult. Luke had been the one—the suitor of whom she’d dreamed.

  Glory stood at the window. The wispy lace curtains, yellowed from two decades of hanging, brushed the back of her hand as she stared with unseeing eyes into the distance. “Mama, why don’t you lie down for a nap? Dr. Dalton stressed not to overdo. If anyone comes, we’ll wake you.”

  “I am a little tired, dear. Perhaps a few winks before the supper hour.”

  Ruth’s steps became faint and disappeared altogether beyond the soft click of the bedroom door.

  “I do hope Mama takes care of herself,” Hope said. “When I think how close we came to losing her, I get terrified.”

  “Your mother is a lovely woman.”

  Hope paused from her knitting. “You’re beautiful as well.”

  “I wish I could have half her refinement.” Jessie stopped rocking. “Shoot, I’m plain ol’ me. Duel claims about all a body can hope for is to live your days with no regrets. Where you can look deep in your heart and know you are all you can be. That’s what brings real peace.”

  Glory considered the theory that expanded on Horace’s perception. When a body found the image on the water, he’d better have sense enough to know what he saw.

  Skipping rocks across every silent pond, creek, and mud puddle she encountered had seemed a preoccupation of hers in the past. She’d destroyed everything good, not even sparing a moment to consider the importance of a whip-poor-will call in the flush of early morning.

  And she especially overlooked the warmth of family who accepted her for who she was and loved her in spite of it.

  An easy, carefree life didn’t ensure happiness. She saw that now. Challenges and hardship carved the full measure of a person.

  Nor did bliss come from hanging your hat on a star.

  When the thing she most desired waltzed into her life, she’d spurned it because she’d demanded perfection, nay, been unwilling to settle for less.

  She’d denied herself and Luke. Ice formed around her heart.

  Even should a miracle snatch him from harm, he’d turned from her. Albeit with good reason.

  “Strange, isn’t it, how we can never see the true picture of our lives until we can no longer see?” she murmured to no one in particular.

  The glassy lake reflected a meddling charmer with teasing glints in his eyes.

  Regrets? She could fill every cellar in the state with them and have plenty left over.

  Glory cocked her head, listening. “Someone’s coming.”

  Jessie’s shallow breathing matched her own. “I wonder…?”

  A horse galloped to the house.

  Boots pounded across the porch.

  Thirty

  “Uncle Pete, what on earth?” Hope exclaimed.

  Glory’s insides bumped over the raised ridges of too much worry. “Has something happened to Aunt Dorothy?”

  “You ain’t gonna believe this. You just ain’t.”

  There seemed to be no letup. She cringed. “What? Tell us.”

  Standing as near as she was, Jessie’s quick intake of air seemed to suck the life from Glory.

  “Luke? Have you word of Duel or Luke?” Jessie asked.

  “Who the heck is Duel?”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Pete.” Glory had trouble remembering her own name these days. “This is Jessie McClain. Her husband, Duel, is Luke’s brother. They arrived this morning bringing sad news of their father’s death. After hearing about Luke’s fix, Duel rode to help.”

  “I’m right proud to know you, Mrs. McClain. I shouldn’t have barged in here like this. What in blazes kind of trouble is Luke in?”

  “It’s a long story, but he found the outlaw gang that’s got Santa Anna in an uproar.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “What brought you out this way, Uncle Pete?” Hope prodded.

  “Well, you girls know how I been digging for treasure?”

  “You found the gold?” Hope gripped Glory’s arm.

  “Nope, something better…water.”

  “You found water?” That would make him rich. Glory was happy folks wouldn’t scorn him anymore.

  “Yep, when I wasn’t even looking for it. And guess where?” A second’s silence passed. “On Day land. You’ll have your own water well.”

  “Praise be,” said Ruth from the doorway. “At last something good for a change to break the string of bad.”

  Glory pried Hope’s fingers loose and tried to bite back the disappointment. In the grand scheme of things, she had to look at finding water in a positive light, but for the life of her she wished for something of a more personal nature.

  Starting with the rakish, teasing baritone of a certain heart-stealer. What she would give to hear it!

  * * *

  The forty-five filled Luke’s hand while the sound of blood gushing through his veins created a roar in his ears. Nothing except the dogged purpose in his soul spurred him forward.

  He brushed aside a curtain of desert willow, taking note of an agarita shrub’s broken limb. He leaned to examine it. When he rose, he came face-to-face with the unexpected muzzle of gray steel. The cold metal pressed into his cheek.

  “Imagine this. I couldn’t have planned our last little meeting better, not in a hundred years.” Vince Foster’s soft tone belied the evil lurking beneath.

  “I always figured you for the boss man.”

  “You’ve reached the end of your ride, Ranger McClain.” The man laughed. “Uh-oh, I plumb forgot, you lost your job. That’s right. Now, you’re a wanted man. Folks in Santa Anna will pin a medal on me for killing poor ol’ Mrs. Tucker’s murderer.”

  Luke ignored the icy pinpricks. He answered evenly, “What makes you so sure you’ll be the one left breathing?”

  “This guarantees it.” Foster poked him harder. “And probably because I’m doing the holding of it. Yep, McClain, my finger is about to put a hole in your skull a whole mess of lawmen sons a bitches could pass through at full gallop.”

  “Way I see it, we have an equal chance.”

  �
��I’ve been counting. Reckon I heard six shots from your Colt. You done spent all your bargaining chips.”

  Coldness spread in waves. Luke knew he’d lost the tally. Maybe Foster was right. Or maybe not. He reckoned King of the Bluffers had one more hand to deal.

  “First, mind telling me why you have it in for me? You must have a reason. Do I know you?”

  “Remember Willie Foster?”

  Why hadn’t he connected the name? An oversight for sure. How could he forget that bloodthirsty demon? Though this one had more age on him, the two shared the same shifty eyes, hateful sneer, and devil soul.

  He measured the man who wore hate like a heavy overcoat. Foster’s eyes widened, anticipating his victory, positive he had the upper hand. The man would be dead wrong on that last part. Luke gripped the Colt tighter. Shot or no, he’d give him a heck of a fight.

  “Willie? Willie who? Maybe you oughta refresh my memory. I’ve come across a bunch of cutthroats in the last five years. Which sorry piece of scum was he?”

  “The one you ambushed and fed to the crows. My boy.”

  “Oh, that murdering piece of scum. The one who unloaded his pistol in the gut of a new recruit, barely nineteen.”

  Foster shrugged. “Willie had the right to survive just like everybody else. A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta.”

  “I’m curious. Before you walk me to the gates of hell, I’d like to know why you framed Jack Day.”

  “Make any difference?”

  “Humor a dying man.”

  Vince Foster brushed away a horsefly that landed on his ear. He shifted the plug of chewing tobacco in his mouth.

  “Reckon no harm in telling since you’ll be dead. Jack caught Willie in his root cellar. Ran my boy off his land. That taste of revenge was mighty sweet. But not as satisfying as getting you out of the way.”

  The most twisted thinking he’d ever heard—to frame and kill for a son who’d never had a decent care for a living soul.

  “And Mad Dog Perkins? I suppose that was your handiwork, too?” Luke’s gaze never wavered from Foster’s. He only needed a small opening.

  “Had to. You were hot on his trail. Didn’t want to take a chance you might beat the truth out of him.”